


Joining the Angels

by Moontyger



Category: Birds of Prey (Comic), DCU - Comicverse
Genre: Gen, Misses Clause Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-20
Updated: 2012-12-20
Packaged: 2017-11-21 16:14:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/599699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moontyger/pseuds/Moontyger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dinah glanced between the ring box in one hand and the photo in the other before looking back at Barbara.  “But why are you coming along on this one?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Joining the Angels

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Amilyn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amilyn/gifts).



“I don't know what to say.”

Dinah stared at the small opened box in Barbara's hand with an expression of exaggerated shock: both eyebrows raised and mouth slightly open, although she couldn't quite contain a few twitches toward a smile.

“Say you'll take it and I'll continue with this briefing.” Barbara refused to laugh, although she couldn't keep from smiling at her reaction.

Dinah took the box without further argument, taking it in a hand that she then closed into a fist, the hinged lid shutting with a tiny snap as she did so. “Of all the things I expected to get from you, a ring wasn't one of them.”

“I'm just full of surprises.” Barbara turned back to her display and called up an image. “Meet Theodore “Ted” Cochran – our target. He's a recent arrival to Gotham's business community.” A readout appeared next to him, listing available stats – address, spouse, previous residence, height and weight – all the basics easily obtainable from public records. “I'm also positive he's a smuggler, running guns and stolen artifacts, among other things. The problem is that I have no proof.”

Dinah folded her arms across her chest and studied the information. “I still don't see where the ring comes into it.”

“I'm getting to that.” Another window opened on the display, this one with a shot of a large house and another of a furniture store. “Ted Cochran is a technophobe – that, or he's knowledgeable enough to be incredibly cautious. He doesn't keep records online anywhere, so I can't find anything on him.”

“Ok, so we break into his office or maybe that house.”

“I don't think it's going to be that easy. Everything I can find suggests he's the kind of control freak who'd never keep incriminating records unsecured. That means they're at the house, not his business, and probably well hidden.”

Dinah tapped her foot pointedly. She was a great field agent, but she rarely had the patience for this kind of extended briefing. Barbara cut to the chase before Dinah lost interest entirely. “We're going to be his new neighbors. We'll get to know him and find out where he keeps those files.”

“... We? You're coming along?”

Barbara picked up a framed picture that had been lying face-down on her desk and held it out to Dinah. “We're newlyweds who just moved into the neighborhood.”

She had the satisfaction of seeing Dinah choke. “We're... what?”

“Newlyweds. Fairly well-off ones, but just starting out. It turns out the house across the street from Mr. Cochran's was for sale and I've just purchased it.”

Dinah took the picture and stared at it. It was a wedding photo of the two of them. Fake, obviously, but she couldn't tell that just from looking at it. “Nice dress you chose for me.”

“I thought you'd like it.” Barbara turned back around and called up a number of photos – Cochran at a barbeque grill; Cochran playing basketball. “He might be a gun runner, but he's also surprisingly neighborly. He hosts regular barbeques and poker nights for the neighborhood. For such a recent arrival, he already has a reputation for sociability.”

“But why me? Wouldn't a guy be better for this? Like maybe -”

A glare was enough to cut her off before she finished the thought.

“Right. Yeah, I guess that'd be awkward.” Dinah glanced between the ring box in one hand and the photo in the other before looking back at Barbara. “But why are you coming along on this one? You have the whole Charlie thing going. Why are you joining the Angels?”

Barbara extended a hand and retrieved the photo, propping it up on her desk for display before answering. “Helena has a day job, and she can't really afford for someone to think she might be gay. And Zinda isn't the best choice for this sort of undercover work.” And maybe she'd welcomed the chance to go along for once, to be part of the action instead of the helpless observer, but Barbara didn't say that and Dinah didn't mention it.

Instead, Dinah took a deep breath, then removed the ring from the box and slid it on her finger. “All right, I'm game. When do we start?”

* * *

It was a week before they moved in, a week in which Barbara arranged for both appropriate furniture and the moving of it. This was an ordinary suburban house and, under the circumstances, she didn't even try for her usual security measures and secret hiding places. If all went well, they wouldn't be necessary. If it didn't, they'd only raise further suspicion.

They met on moving day, and Dinah used the car Barbara had purchased for her shortly after they began working together to drive them both to their temporary home. It was flashier than Barbara would have chosen, but she didn't usually keep a car of her own and they could hardly move to the suburbs without one.

Once there, she insisted on lingering outside and keeping an eye on the movers. It wasn't that she didn't trust them, particularly since for once, she had nothing to hide that they could discover. But being outside as they moved in provided an obvious opportunity for approaches from the neighbors.

Theodore Cochran didn't disappoint. He wasn't the only neighbor to approach, but Barbara noted that he was the first. A leader, just as her research had led her to expect.

For all his paranoia, she didn't expect that he'd do much research on his new neighbors. Just to be sure, however, she'd kept their stories simple and created complete identities for both of them.

“Barbara Hanson,” she said, offered a hand to Cochran and giving him a winning smile. “It's great to meet our new neighbors.”

His return smile was charming but practiced, the sort of expression that spoke of a career in sales. “'Our”? I guess I'm not surprised a woman as pretty as you would have a husband.”

Barbara's smile sharpened. The marriage might be a lie, but she loved sticking it to guys like this. “I don't.” She turned to the house and raised her voice. “Dinah! Come meet our new neighbor.” Tilting her head back, she studied his expression. “My wife will be right out.”

Cochran merely blinked, never quite losing his smile, even when Dinah emerged from the front door and rested a hand on Barbara's shoulder while offering him the other. He even managed not to stare at the wheelchair. If she hadn't been so certain of his line of work, she might have given him points for how smoothly he handled it.

“Sorry, guess that kind of thing's still new to me. But congratulations to you both!”

* * *

It didn't take long for Barbara to realize that however careful her planning, there were things she hadn't considered. Pizza delivery was fine for the first night, but it wouldn't be as a regular thing – someone would be sure to notice. And neither of them were known for their cooking, even if in her case it was more due to lack of interest than skill.

Nor was that the only issue, although she didn't realize it until it was time for bed. She hadn't spent much time pondering sleeping arrangements – it had been long enough since it had been an issue that it had never crossed her mind. Even if it had, she would still have opted for a single bed. It was unlikely that anyone was spying on them, but it was always better to keep up the pretense even when you didn't think you were being observed. It ensured you were less likely to slip.

Dinah didn't question the arrangement, merely raised an eyebrow at Barbara's ratty Batsymbol T-shirt and flannel pajama pants. “That's what you're wearing to bed?”

Barbara glanced down at herself, suddenly self-conscious, when a moment ago, she hadn't given it a second thought. “What's wrong with it?”

“We're _newlyweds_ , remember? And _that_ is not sexy.”

“I doubt anyone's going to be peeping through the windows at us.”

“Who's the one used to undercover work here? We keep up the act, observed or not.”

Barbara sighed. Dinah was right, but she was pretty certain this was more about payback. “All right, what do you suggest? I didn't bring anything like that.” Which didn't mean she didn't own it, but Barbara saw little point in sleeping in uncomfortable lingerie if no one was going to see it.

“And that's why I got you a wedding present!” With a huge grin, Dinah knelt down beside the bed and pulled out large white box tied with a wide ivory ribbon and held it out to Barbara.

Barbara shook her head, but she was laughing a little as she took it. With all the times she'd sent Dinah outfits, she supposed she deserved this one. Carefully, she untied the ribbon and set it aside, then stared at the transparent, frilly negligee inside. “You expect me to wear this?”

Dinah nodded, still grinning. “Don't you like it?”

“And what are you going to wear, then? Or do I even want to know?”

“Don't worry – it's modest!” Which turned out to mean a tiny black tank top and even tinier matching hot pants.

Barbara raised an eyebrow once she saw her in it. “You might as well sleep in your costume.”

“Are you kidding? This is much more comfortable.”

Comfortable, unfortunately, didn't describe the negligee. Barbara didn't like the way it had of riding up and she kept trying to both pull it down and make sure she was completely covered by the bedding. Between that, the strange bed, and her continual awareness of someone else in bed with her, one elbow poking into her back, it was a long time before she was able to fall asleep.

* * *

Three days later, she was rapidly rediscovering that the waiting was the worst part of a stake out. Barbara Hanson was a software engineer at Wayne Enterprises, so every morning, she got up, dressed in something close to business casual, and drove the car she'd had modified and delivered into the city. She didn't actually go to Wayne Enterprises, although she was prepared to if she had to. Instead, she went home and tried to catch up on everything she'd missed overnight.

And every night, she arrived home exhausted and frustrated. Oracle had never been meant to be a day job; she couldn't keep up with everything she had to this way. But she couldn't be Oracle here either – she lacked too much of her usual setup for that.

Dinah left later than she did and she'd been able to confirm that the Cochran house was occupied at all times. The guards weren't obvious to the casual observer, but that hadn't described any of the Birds in quite some time.

Despite that, Barbara was certain that getting inside would be the easiest part of this operation. At least, it would have been if she'd had her usual equipment and if everything electronic she'd tested didn't stop working if she got within twenty feet of Cochran's home.

“It's a good thing there's plenty of space between his house and his neighbors',” she observed. “Or he'd never get away with his electronic countermeasures. Everyone uses some sort of electronics these days, even if it's just a television.”

Dinah glanced over at her from where she was draped over the couch, remote in hand. “You mean you're glad we don't live that close.”

“That, too.” No point in denying something that obvious.

“You're practically vibrating. Is it really that hard to just veg out for awhile?”

Barbara gave her a look that made it clear that it had been a stupid question.

“Go make us some popcorn and then come sit beside me. Watch a movie on a television instead of your... whatever it is you usually use. Before you drive us both crazy.”

She rolled her eyes a little in response, but went along with the suggestion. Why not? It wasn't as though she had anything better to do.

* * *

By the time Cochran finally invited them to one of his neighborhood barbecues, they'd settled into a routine. Every weekday, they both went to work. At night, they alternated cooking; on Sundays, they ordered in.

Weekends they mostly passed watching television or even playing board games, something Barbara hadn't done in years. Sometimes Dinah managed to drag her out instead, but not always. Sometimes she went back home and spent as much of the weekend being Oracle as she could; sometimes Dinah had to answer her JSA communicator. But mostly, they lived a surprisingly ordinary life, the kind of life Barbara had once thought she might one day have.

Given her relief at the invitation, it was also the kind of life she no longer wanted in the slightest.

The day of the barbecue was cloudy, but hot. Cochran's yard was crowded with neighbors and they were both kept busy introducing themselves. It was exactly the sort of social occasion Barbara hated, but it provided a perfect opportunity. With so many people here, it would be hard for anyone to keep an eye on the house. While she kept Cochran busy, trying to get to know him well enough to have a better idea where he might hide something, Dinah slipped into the house, armed with a disposable camera. Barbara wasn't sure it would work, but it was far more likely to than the digital variety.

* * *

“Wow. I've never seen a house like this. He doesn't even have a TV!” Dinah kept her voice low enough that even someone standing next to her wouldn't have been able to overhear, then caught herself and shook her head, biting back laughter. _Right. Oracle can't hear me in here._ Funny how ingrained the habit of talking to Barbara while she worked had become.

Even now, she kept up an inner monologue, describing each room as she photographed them. Too bad Oracle couldn't hear, really – she was in fine form as far as snarky humor went.

Everything was fine until she opened a door on the right side of the hall to reveal a room set up as an office. Dinah barely got a glimpse of an expensive mahogany desk before the sort of over-muscled goon often employed as guards by the rich and criminal was up in her face.

“Sorry,” she said, holding up her hands and offering her most charming smile, grateful that she'd managed to drop the camera in her pocket. “I was looking for the bathroom.”

If he was at all mollified, he didn't show it. He merely crossed his arms across his chest and glared down at her. “If you want to use the bathroom, go home.”

“This one's closer?” Her tone was conciliatory, but she didn't try to argue. “Okay, okay. I know the way out.” She made her way to the door, noting that he followed her the entire way there, leaving no chance she might slip away.

Once outside, she went into their house and dropped off the camera before returning to Barbara's side. “Miss me?” Dinah asked, leaning over and kissing her cheek to cover her one word summation of her expedition: “Caught.”

* * *

Despite the interruption, Barbara was in a good mood that night and an even better one after she spent the day back at the clocktower, developing photos.

“The guard may have been in the office,” she said, spreading the photos out on the dinner table after they were done eating, “but I don't think that's where the files we're after are. It's too obvious.”

“Okay,” Dinah agreed. “Then where are they?”

“My best guess would be here.” Barbara reached out and snagged a photo from the edge of the table and put it in the very center. The room depicted had hot pink walls, although the color could hardly be seen beneath the numerous posters and images cut from magazines. It was clearly the room of a teenage girl, albeit one that seemed to belong to one of Barbara's generation rather than the current one.

“You think he keeps it in his daughter's room?” Dinah sounded frankly skeptical. “You normally know what you're talking about, O, but that seems weird to me.”

“Not in her room exactly. In her closet. Or, to be more precise, behind it.” Barbara gathered other photos as well as the public blueprints to the house and pointed out where the secret compartment should be.

“Do you think she knows what her father does?”

“Not necessarily. With all her clothes in the way, she may have no idea the door is there.” Tina Cochran was fifteen years old. Barbara remembered being that age and how self-absorbed she'd been. It would be easy for the girl to have completely overlooked the door right under her nose.

“All right. When do I go and how do I get in?”

“You don't. I'm handling this one.” Barbara gathered the photos together again so she didn't have to look at Dinah's reaction.

“You're sure?”

“You got caught once. Better not to risk it again – then they'll be sure you're up to something.”

Dinah looked as though she wanted to argue, but she didn't say it. Barbara was right and they both knew it, just as they both knew Dinah didn't like it. But there was no point in arguing. Even if Barbara hadn't had a point, she almost never changed her mind once it was made up.

* * *

The next morning, Barbara drove off as usual, but she drove to a parking garage where Zinda was waiting with a different car. Switching vehicles, she drove right back again and parked the next street down.

Buying the house across the street had proved useful in more ways than one. She couldn't set up cameras on the Cochran house herself, but she had plenty on her own house, disguised as the household security measures of someone both slightly paranoid about safety and with the money to spend to satisfy that paranoia. It hadn't been easy, but she'd been able to track the movements of the guards. This would take careful timing, but she was sure she could do it.

Checking her watch, she began making her way to Ted Cochran's front door. She wished the wheels of her wheelchair could be silenced, but she did the best she could. Carefully hiding from the street behind a bush, she tested the door. Locked. That was no surprise.

However, perhaps because of his confidence in his guards, the lock was simply a standard front door lock. Barbara could pick something like this in the dark and behind her back – could and had. It took her next to no time to have it open.

Checking over her shoulder for any observers – oh, how she hated that she had to do this during daylight – she rolled inside and shut the door behind her, stopping it just before it latched to avoid the telltale click.

Inside, the lights were off, and she had to wait for her eyes to adjust, her heart hammering the whole time. Any minute now, someone would come along and see her sitting there. But she couldn't go off blind either, so she waited, concentrating on her breathing. Inhale, exhale, again. There, that was good enough. Cautiously, she set off down the hall.

The door to the Tina's room was closed. Barbara held her breath as she turned the knob and eased it open. Grateful that Cochran was careful enough about home maintenance to keep hinges oiled, she wheeled herself inside and into the closet.

Blackness swallowed her once she'd shut the closet door, but she didn't need to see for this. One hand stretched out in front of her, she rolled forward until her palm was flat on the wall. From there, she felt around, until she finally heard a click and felt cool air on her face.

The room beyond was open, but she still didn't turn on the closet light. Instead, she used the flashlight she'd brought, holding it between her teeth as she continued forward, clothes brushing against her face and arms. Just as she'd thought, there was a small room beyond – smaller even than the closet she'd just come from, but filled with both cheap metal filing cabinets and stacks of cardboard file boxes. It was so crowded she could barely move, but she managed to open a box and look inside. Yes, this was what she'd come for.

She'd barely begun photographing documents when a bright light blinded her.

 _Shit._ Barbara threw herself sideways, banging her side into a file cabinet but dodging the punch she'd known was coming more from instinct than sight. Another dodge and her escrima sticks were in her hands.

Luckily for her, Cochran's guard didn't know anything about martial arts, much less stick fighting. Even luckier that he'd gone for punches instead of using the gun she found once she'd knocked him out. Barbara refused to consider why that might have been; the thought made her almost as sick as the sight of the gun.

Now that she'd been caught, she abandoned the idea of photographing evidence. A quick check through boxes and she chose one, setting it on her lap as she made her way out of the file room, wincing as her chair rolled over the guard's ankle.

It must not have roused him, because she was able to get out of the house and back to her car without incident. Once inside, she set the box on the floorboards, then leaned her head on the steering wheel and shook. She missed this – the action, the fighting, that feeling of triumph when she'd defeated an opponent and was about to send him to jail – but she hadn't missed the aftereffect, the moment that sometimes happened when she realized all the ways it could have gone wrong.

But while she wasn't immune to fear, Barbara had never let it rule her life and she wasn't about to start now. She indulged it for a few seconds, then sat up, took a deep breath, and started the car.

* * *

Over dinner that night, she told Dinah how it had gone.

“I guess that means we'll be moving out of here sometime soon?”

“Not right away. If he didn't tell his boss, it's best not to seem suspicious. But before too long, yes.”

“So what do you think? Ready to give it all up and move to the suburbs?”

“Are you kidding?” Barbara shook her head. “Lawns and plenty of sleep and children riding bikes outside? I think I'm allergic.”

“Then I guess there's just one thing left.”

With a smug grin, Dinah headed into the kitchen, emerging with a bottle of champagne and two glasses. 

Dinah poured the champagne and handed Barbara a glass. “Congratulations to us on a job well done!”

"Somehow, I don't think the JSA does this after every mission."

"No," Dinah admitted. "But we're not the JSA. Let's make it our new tradition."

Barbara could have pointed out all the reasons why that was impossible, but she kept her mouth shut. This had been a long mission and one of her first times out in the field in a long time; she didn't want to ruin the mood. Instead she lifted her glass and clinked it against Dinah's.

"To us," she echoed. "Let's keep up the good work."


End file.
